Group Efforts
by Tifaching
Summary: Sam detoxes in the panic room after his demon bloodapalooza in My Bloody Valentine.


This was written for last year's spn_las on LJ. Prompt was for a story written in the first person. Sam and his stint in the panic room detoxing after his demon bloodapalooza in My Bloody Valentine came to mind and voila.

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><p>"Sam. <em>Sam!<em>" The voice is insistent, demanding my attention, but my attention's not really responding to demands right now and since this particular voice can't be here anyway, I ignore it.

It's dark. _Is it dark?_ I can't tell because I can't seem to open my eyes, but it seems like it _should_ be dark. And cold. It should be _freezing_. I feel like light and warmth have gone and won't be coming back. The voice is hammering at me, sharp and annoying like it's _trying_ to push me into the frigid blackness, so I don't fight it and sink into the depths.

When I float back to the surface, it's like someone's unsealed my eyelids and, with effort I'm not sure it's worth it to expend, I pry them open. I'm staring up at a devil's trap in a metal frame with a fan spinning lazily above it and it takes me a minute, but I remember. I_ remember._ Christ, I'm back in Bobby's panic room because….because. _Fuck._ I did it again. I fucking did it again. It all comes crashing back- the demons, Famine, Dean. God, _Dean. _He knows. He saw…._fuck._

"Sam." The voice is back and oh, do I know that tone. The _I'm done fucking around with you, so cut the shit_ tone.

"I don't want to fight."

"So quit fighting."

It takes about a hundred years, but I manage to turn my head to face him. He's leaning against the door like that would keep me from getting out if I really wanted to. If I really wanted to and wasn't chained to a table, he'd be the last thing keeping me here. Then he starts to talk again and I think that maybe he's not trying to keep me in. Maybe he's trying to keep Dean out.

"Why don't you quit fighting, Sam? You're hurting yourself. You're hurting your brother. Have you looked at him lately? Really _looked? _This is what you're meant to do. You were _born_ to do this. Say yes, Sammy."

"No. No, Dad. I wasn't. I _won't._"

"But you were, sweetie." A hand brushes softly through my hair, strokes my face. "You _were _born to do this, I made sure of it. And you will say yes. I know you will."

"Mom." And it is. She's there, her face beautiful and peaceful and _sure._ "Please, Mom. I don't want to. I'm scared."

"I know you are, baby. You don't have to be, though. Your father and I will be with you every step of the way." Mom holds out her hand and Dad's there to grasp it, his other hand landing strong and firm on my shoulder. "Just like we were for Dean."

My head's spinning and it's hard to process what they're saying, because they can't _really_ want me to say yes. And Dean… _what_?

I don't think I speak, but Dad grins sharply and answers me anyway. "Come on, Sammy. Alastair was good, but you'd have been old and grey before your brother broke if your mother and I hadn't given him some _insights_."

"Nobody hurts Dean like family." Mom laughs and Dad leans over to kiss her.

There are lips pressed against mine too, and when I can focus again, Jess is there. She's straddling my hips, her torso draped over mine and as she rises up, she's smiling. "I helped too, Sam. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

"Helped?" I'm lost here because Jess wasn't in hell, _she wasn't,_ and… "you didn't even know Dean."

"No." Her smile is proud. "I know you, though. And all roads into Dean lead straight through you, Sam." Her hands are busy now, holding a whetstone and sharpening a wicked looking blade. Her eyes are full of innocent joy as she stares into mine. "There were all kinds of things I could do."

Jess leans forward again and kisses me like she's trying to suck all the air from my lungs. Hers aren't the only lips on me though, and teeth pull at my earlobe before another voice starts the blood boiling in my veins. "Guess what _I_ did, Sammy."

_Ruby_? I want to spit the name back into her face, but Jess has my mouth otherwise occupied.

"Yeah, baby it's me." Her voice is like sin. "I spent some quality time downstairs with big brother, too. I guess you could call me the eventcoordinator. You know- for the times _everyone_ wanted a taste."

And it's too much. Too fucking much. A rough shake of my head dislodges Ruby, backs Jess off. My eyes lock with Dad's and I want him to tell me it's not true. That they didn't. That _he_ didn't. But he smiles, licks his lips, and I've seen that look before. In the cabin when the demon was crowding Dean, bleeding him, killing him.

"You bastard. You did. You helped them break him. You _all_ helped do _that_ to my brother!" The restraints are tight around my wrists, my ankles, Dean had made sure of it and no matter how hard I struggle I can't break free. I know they're dead already, but I want to annihilate them for turning Dean into this unfixable _thing_. "God, Dad. How could you?"

"It was the only way he'd fulfill his destiny."

"His destiny was to be Michael's vessel!"

"His destiny was to break that seal. That's what _he _was made for. You should have seen him, Sammy. No guilt, no fear. If that damned angel had just left him alone, he'd be fine. Take him back home where he belongs. Where you belong. Say yes, son."

"Sam. _Sam!" _ _And oh, thank God. _ It's Dean, finally, pale and exhausted but chasing the ghosts away, taking care of me like always. And I'll say yes for _him_ if he needs me to. God help me, I will.


End file.
